How Much Pain Can You Take
by PinkAngel17
Summary: Everyone has their limit before the pain becomes too much. Oneshot. Implied torture.


Disclaimer: I most definitely do not own NCIS: New Orleans.

A/N: I wrote this nearly three weeks ago. Then last night BonesBird told me about a spoiler for the finale. The possibilities of what the finale could be are eerily similar to this, so I've decided to post it. It was originally going to end...differently, but instead this happened. No pairings in this one. Warning: Implied torture

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Brody swallowed thickly, trying to moisten her dry throat as much as she could. Her throat tightened in response and she coughed as the distinct taste of blood filled her mouth. She blinked slowly as her vision swam, but picked her head up for a moment to look around.

She was alone again. She'd blocked out the last visit of her captors and hadn't noticed exactly when they'd finally left her alone in the small, windowless room. The first few days...or however long it had been...it had been harder to ignore what they'd been doing to her. The last couple of visits it had been easier to disconnect though. Logically she knew it was only because of her condition, a head wound probably, and a sign of her diminishing coherency.

With her energy quickly draining she had no choice but to lay her head back down, her cheek once again pressed against the cold concrete floor, and she closed her eyes for a moment. It felt as if every inch of her body hurt. Her limbs were too heavy to move and the pressure around her lungs as her ribs pressed against them made it hard to breath. From under the oversized shirt they'd given her to wear she could feel something warm trickling down her thigh and didn't need to look to know it was blood.

Summoning all the strength she could, she forced herself to turn over onto her back. The lacerations which now marred her back stung painfully as she did and she bit back a cry of pain as her other injuries protested the movement as well. She willed herself to stay conscious, to keep pushing air in and out of her lungs, and to not give in to the lure of painless sleep. It was a lot harder to do than she'd anticipated.

How had a case gone so badly? It was an easy question to answer and she could do it in one word.

Broussard.

Baitfish and Sasha Broussard had connections. They had the connections to people who could punish someone with levels of pain which could drive a person to the brink of insanity. She should know. She herself was toeing the edge of that abyss. There came a point in torture in which no amount of training or experience could help you.

NCIS had gotten too close. Broussard had called upon some of her lesser known 'friends' to send a message to Dwayne Pride. What better way than to abduct one of his agents and torture her as punishment? It would send a pretty clear message to King. Merri could only imagine what he was thinking right now. He had blamed himself so much for Baitfish's actions already. The guilt had been eating away at him for a long time.

And now he would probably blame himself for her death as well. There was no way he'd be able to forgive himself. No way he'd let himself off the hook for what was going to happen. She had enough experience with guilt to know how that worked.

She wasn't going to delude herself with thinking that she would survive this. She knew survival rate statistics, knew that her captors had no intention of letting her get out alive, and knew enough about the state her body was in to know that even if she escaped right now she probably wouldn't get far. Her time was running out. It had probably run out long ago and she was just too stubborn to admit defeat.

Laying in a pool of her own blood in a dark, empty cell wasn't how she'd wanted her life to end though. Having fresh memories of assault and pain and hands invading her personal space wasn't the thoughts she wanted to be thinking. Knowing she would be partially responsible for the emotional suffering of the team wasn't what she wanted.

You can't always have what you want though.

It was a fact and one that not even she could elude. There was no avoiding what was to come. If they didn't outright kill her soon than she would simply bleed out, either from internal injuries or outer injures. It didn't matter much at this point.

She coughed again, flinching at the searing pain that ripped through her side, and a trickle of blood finally escaped from the corner of her lips. A part of her almost wished she could get cleaned up. Seeing her in her current state wouldn't do Pride or LaSalle any good. There was no way to erase the bruises or take away the blatant swelling and broken bones or cover up the lacerations, but maybe if she could wash away the dirt and blood than they wouldn't be too shocked when they eventually found her.

It was a pretty morbid thought actually.

As her thoughts began to swirl into semi-coherent, but irregular patterns she didn't really care though. Her strength was fading faster now and it was becoming even harder to keep her eyes open. She was losing the battle to stay conscious. It was more than a battle to stay coherent though. It was a battle to stay alive and even in her less-than-cognizant state she could recognize that. If she went to sleep now she probably wouldn't wake back up.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was even trying really. It could only be her own stubborn will that was somehow still making her hold onto the thin string that was keeping her tethered to life. Her own stubborn will. She wondered for a moment if LaSalle would tease her about her stubbornness now.

Would Sebastian be rushing through his lab to get a clue to where to find her? Would Loretta be trying to keep the team together while silently worrying as well? Would Pride be falling deeper and deeper into a self-dug pit of guilt and progressively pushing the others away again? And Patton...Would Patton be trying to make a joke while using every computer trick in his arsenal to aid the search?

She could almost imagine them each going about their tasks and the thought brought a ghost of a smile to her face. It was probably delirium and another sign of her loss of sanity and, in effect, the fading of her own life.

She wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

Just as that single, echoing, thought filled her mind a blinding light suddenly flooded the room and made her shut her eyes to keep the offending brightness away. She knew what it meant. It was the signal that her captors had returned. Probably to finish what they'd started.

She kept her eyes closed and tried to breathe through the pain and ignore her erratic heartbeat. With a deep breath, her lungs rattling in the process, she calmed herself and prepared for what was to come. She didn't have the energy to fight any longer. She didn't have the power in her arms or legs to even move again.

This was the end. She could only accept it and meet death head-on. She hoped Pride would at least be proud of her for that. She forced her eyelids open, only managing a small slit in one eye while the other one remained shut from the massive swelling.

Her breath caught in her throat at what she saw.

Even through her blurry vision she could tell it wasn't her captors who were bent over her. She couldn't place the blurred faces though. In the back of her mind she knew she should know them. Whether friend or foe she couldn't remember.

There was suddenly a hand on the top of her head, a gentle touch that felt familiar as well. She saw the two men's mouths moving, but she couldn't understand the words. It was all jumbled together as the room around her began to fade out of focus.

As she finally lost the fight to stay awake she finally heard a few words, however, almost as if from a distance and through a thick fog.

"You're safe now, Meredith."

And she believed them.


End file.
